My mum asked me what I wanted for my birthday.
Love.
Unconditional love.
From her, my Dad, my brothers, Aunts, Uncles... my Grandma. As I think these thoughts I cry, sometimes it's huge, shaky breaths that leave me light-headed and curled up on the floor.
Sometimes they're quite sobs that roll down my face as I balance the crushing weight in my gut. A weight that feels so core to me I hardly recognise myself without it.
Yet what can one become when their foundation, what they are meant to be built on, is made of such despair and darkness that its only reason for going on is for others and not itself. To have no instinct for self-preservation, only able to move into action for the sake of others.
How can I overcome this? Answer me this.
That is what I would like for my birthday.
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Perfectly Mistakable
Non-FictionWhat do you do when you grow up and realise that to continue growing, you need to grow apart from your family? I have been asking myself this question a lot recently and here, these entries, recount my desires, fears, hopes, and raw experience growi...
